Month: July 2009

Earlier this year, Jack in the Box came out with their $2.99 Jumbo Deal, which consisted of two beef tacos, a small fries, a Jumbo Jack and the feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something horribly wrong by eating it all. It was great for those who wanted their Jack in the Box saturated fat and sodium fix in this tough economy.

But, like most of the money in everyone’s retirement funds, this cheap meal disappeared. Thankfully, Jack has been kind enough to bring back a $2.99 meal, and this time it’s got a name that was probably conceived with the help of the old name and a Roget’s Thesaurus — The Big Deal.

The name is not the only thing different about this $2.99 meal. It comes with a small fries, a beef taco, either a chicken sandwich or cheeseburger and, most importantly, a beverage, which was something the Jumbo Deal didn’t have, making it hard to satisfy your thirst caused by consuming all the sodium in it. This orgy of trans fats, which by the way is the least sexiest orgy ever, has enough variety to make sure there’s something for even the pickiest stoner.

Despite having variety, none of the items in the Big Deal were new or interesting. The cheeseburger was so boring that I’m surprised the microwave oven used to warm it up didn’t fall asleep. If you’ve had a mediocre cheeseburger in any time of your life, whether it be in a school cafeteria or at some shitty diner at 3 a.m., you’ll have an idea of what this wimpy cheeseburger tastes like.

As for the beef taco, well, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the Jack in the Box beef taco is one of the most vile fast food menu items. It takes some huge balls to deep fry an entire taco and then sell it to the public. Not even Taco Bell is willing to do that, and they put out a lot of crap.

Jack in the Box’s Natural Cut Fries may not have been circumcised and still have the potato skin on them, but they are quite possibly the most limp fast food fries around. I’m talking seeing your grandma naked and in spread eagle position limp.

By themselves, the boring cheeseburger, deep fried taco and limp fries, aren’t going to encourage me to raise my blood pressure and harden my arteries by eating them. But when all of them are offered together with a medium drink for only $2.99, it makes the cheeseburger a little exciting, the fries a little crispy and the taco a little less greasy.

I was once left with a case of blue balls because a woman said to me on my college dorm room bed that French kissing me is like French kissing a dog because my tongue just hangs out of my mouth and there’s drool everywhere.

While I did come back with the line, “Well, how would you know what it’s like to French kiss a dog, Ms. Bestiality,” which caused her to storm out of my dorm room and making the blue scrunchy signal for my roommate on the outside door knob meaningless, it did make me wonder if my inability to properly stick my tongue in a woman’s mouth is the reason why I lack the tongue dexterity to spread out a large enough surface area to create a bubble with a piece of chewing gum. Well, it looks like it’s time to test my tongue dysfunction with the Uber Bubble Stride Gum.

Like frat boys who brag about having the sexual prowess of porn stars, Stride Gum proudly claims that it’s extremely long lasting. Unfortunately, one person’s idea of “long lasting” may not equal to another person’s idea of “long lasting.” For example, the frat boy may think three minutes of pleasure is perfect, but the unsatisfied co-ed beneath him probably isn’t happy about the quickie that lasted the same amount of time it takes for her to brush her teeth.

As for the Stride Gum, it took about 20 minutes or so before it lost all flavor and I had the urge to spit it out. While that’s enough time to satisfy a co-ed and then cuddle with her, I like the flavor of the gum I chew to last a little longer than that. In other words, a little more uber.

The Uber Bubble Stride Gum’s initial flavor tasted like, I’m not kidding, the wood of a number two pencil, but after a few seconds it disappears and is replaced with a mellow bubble gum flavor. It’s not as strong as Bazooka Gum, but it’s much better and longer lasting than a piece of gum that came out of a 25-cent machine or a 1986 Topps Baseball wax pack. However, its flavor was nowhere near uber.

While my taste buds don’t think it has an uber bubble gum flavor or is uber lasting, I was hoping I could at least make uber bubbles with a piece (or four) of the Stride Gum, but I was unable to make any bigger than an inch in diameter. I think I was unable to do it because the gum wasn’t soft enough, like Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious, to create a good bubble. And because my dysfunctional tongue still doesn’t have enough dexterity, despite all the French kissing practice I’ve done with my fist.

With a name like Ritz, shouldn’t Ritz Crackers be fancier than they truly are?

Maybe they’re extremely high-class, but I have yet to see a monocle or top hat-wearing old man eating them and getting crumbs stuck in his white beard while discussing the African safari he went on to hunt the ultimate game — humans. Although I have to admit I’ve never been invited to galas that have The Most Interesting Man in the World who only drinks Dos Equis on the guest list or parties that don’t use red plastic cups to hold beverages.

If Ritz Crackers are fancy, Nabisco is attempting to make them a little more ritzier with their Ritz Crackerfuls, which come in two flavors: Four Cheese and Classic Cheddar. They’re basically elegant Ritz Cracker sandwiches with classy canned spray cheese in the middle. According to its box, each individually wrapped cracker sandwich is made with real cheese and five grams of whole grain.

The Ritz Crackers that Chinese fingercuff the cheese filling had that familiar buttery Ritz taste. The Four Cheese one had the sharper flavor of the two and on my ritzy scale of 1-10, with 10 being fine diamonds and 1 being shards of a broken glass window, the Four Cheese Crackerfuls was probably a 5 rating or a plastic silver ring with a clear plastic gem won from accumulating 25 prize tickets at an arcade. As for the Classic Cheddar, it tasted like a Kraft Handi-Snack and on my ritzy scale it was a 4 rating or a plastic neon colored ring with a clear plastic gem that comes delivered in a plastic egg from a 25 cent machine outside of a grocery store.

While I felt both weren’t very fancy, I also thought they weren’t bad. The combination of the buttery Ritz crackers and the soft cheese paste was pleasant, but I think one would get more flavor by purchasing some fancy cheese that doesn’t come in individually wrapped slices and putting it on top of a Ritz cracker. Although I believe that would degrade the cheese.

Something I really didn’t enjoy about the Crackerfuls was the long Ritz Cracker, which was extremely fragile. Because they were even more delicate than normal round Ritz Crackers, I was forced to use a plate since I lack the white beard to catch the crumbs.

Another thing I didn’t like about the Ritz Crackerfuls was its name. Now I don’t have an English degree…

Oh wait. I do.

So it’s all right for me to say I found its name to be confusing because it’s not filled with crackers, it’s filled with cheese. So shouldn’t it be named Cheesefuls?

Now if two layers of cheese were Chinese fingercuffing a Ritz Cracker then it would be Crackerfuls. But it still wouldn’t be very fancy.

Item: Ritz Crackerfuls (Classic Cheddar and Four Cheese)Price: $3.18 eachSize: 6 packPurchased at: WalmartRating: 6 out of 10 (Classic Cheddar)Rating: 6 out of 10 (Four Cheese)Pros: Pleasant tasting. Buttery Ritz Crackers. Four Cheese flavor had a nice sharp flavor. Simply Cheddar tasted like a Kraft Handi-Snack, which I do enjoy. Contains mono- and poly unsaturated fats. Hunting humans.Cons: Cheese looked like something that came out of a can. Long Ritz Crackers were extremely fragile. Crumbs. Would be tastier to buy Ritz Crackers and put your own cheese on it. Not very ritzy. Name doesn’t seem right. Being hunted by humans.

Chocolate is one of those things that people either gorge on or enjoy a little piece once in awhile. I fall into the latter. I have friends who obsess over chocolate. Of course, they are all female, because as marketing dictates to us, chocolate is generally for women (with the exception of Yorkie in the UK which prides itself on being NOT for girls). Names like Bliss and Fling (which, by the way, has a site pumps out more estrogen than The View and they call their chocolate “fingers” — use your imagination) allude to the sexy, flirty nature that apparently my fellow sisters act like under the influence of chocolate (and sometimes appletinis). The folks at M&Mâ€™s/Mars have jumped on the bandwagon with their new line of “premium” chocolate.

I love chocolate and raspberry. Itâ€™s probably my favorite classic combination, besides steak and potatoes; dingoes and babies; and NASCAR and drunk rednecks shameless corporate sponsorships. However, I donâ€™t like just any chocolate uniting with raspberry. It should be just dark chocolate, but unfortunately the M&Mâ€™s Premiums Raspberry Almond says that thereâ€™s raspberry flavored white chocolate and SOME dark chocolatey goodness in it (their website also tells you to enjoy them while you have your afternoon pedicure, because you know we all get those every day),

The M&Mâ€™s Premiums Raspberry Almond have a really cool metallic shell thatâ€™s eye catching if youâ€™re the type of person who puts candy out in crystal bowls for your lovely guests, but I think that might be the only premium thing about them. The chocolate is good (if you like white chocolate and a light dark chocolate taste), but I canâ€™t really call it premium. The size of the individual pieces arenâ€™t even larger than the standard M&Mâ€™s with Almonds (which are getting harder and harder to find), but I guess thatâ€™s the folks at M&Mâ€™s/Mars saying, “You gals need to keep your figures slim.”

When opening the box, and the little baggie they come in, you get a huge whiff of artificial raspberry goodness, but when popped into the mouth, the raspberry flavor wears off rather quickly. Itâ€™s similar to the Fruit Stripe Gum conundrum; where youâ€™re excited by the smell and you get that burst of flavor, but then it vanishes, like 80% of the people who were on American Idol. For the price, thereâ€™s a heck of a lot more choices to satisfy a chocolate craving, including great European chocolates from Lindt (those truffle balls are banginâ€™) and Toblerone, both of which are in the same price range as the M&Mâ€™s Premiums.

And a note to all chocolate manufactures: Just because itâ€™s pink and has a cute name or package, we are not going to buy it. We will buy chocolate purely on the idea that it is chocolate.

Item: M&Mâ€™s Premiums Raspberry AlmondPrice: $4.99Size: 6 ouncePurchased at: CVSRating: 5 out of 10Pros: Aesthetically pleasing for fancy candy dishes. Nice raspberry scent. Being able to get away with innuendo in marketing. Fresh almonds.Cons: Way too expensive for what you get. Flavor isnâ€™t that strong. Overuse of the word premium. No green ones to make you horny.

Here are a few product reviews posted this week from other blogs we like.

I don’t think I’ll be drinking the Odwalla 100% Pure Carrot Juice any time soon. Not because I don’t like carrots, but because I’m afraid Jack LaLanne will kick my ass for not using a Juice Tiger. (via The Skinny Plate)

SPAM vs. TREET? Both straight out of the can? There are no winners and only losers in that match. (via Second Rate Snacks)

I really do hate those Domino’s American Legends pizza commercials that involve stereotypes of the people who represent the areas the pizzas were influenced from, like the California Pacific Veggie Pizza and the Philly Cheese Steak Pizza. Yes, there’s the Honolulu Hawaiian pizza, but I don’t think you’ll ever see a commercial with Hawaii stereotypes. Because here’s a little secret about Hawaiian pizzas with pineapple and ham…people in Hawaii don’t eat them. (via Would I Buy It Again)

Let me get this straight. Raisinets that don’t have any raisins, but have cranberries instead is called Cranberry Raisinets? Shouldn’t they have called it Craisinets? Or maybe they couldn’t call it that because someone else already trademarked the name. I wonder if Prunets, Raspinets or Strawbinets have been trademarked? (via Candy Addict)

With all the sexual synonyms in its name, I think Long John Silver’s Baja Fish Taco should replace the word “fuck” when talking about intercourse in inappropriate situations, like in front of children. Let’s make this happen, people. Let’s start Long John Silver’s Baja Fish Taco-ing. (via We Rate Stuff)